


The Eighth Animorph

by osmiumpeach



Category: Animorphs - Katherine A. Applegate
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2019-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-21 00:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13729356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/osmiumpeach/pseuds/osmiumpeach
Summary: Contrary to what the Animorphs thought, the buffa-human survived. Now sentient and able to morph, he wishes to meet Cassie - the friendly human - and the other animorphs in order to protect his herd from the yeerks. (original idea from Defective Tomato)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Original idea from Defective Tomato

«I have to go now. Thank you for saving my life.»  
I twitched my ears to show her I understood what she meant – since I had met her, I had been able to learn the twoleg-speak fast enough to have a basic idea of what she was trying to say. I didn't know how I was able to do that, but I knew it was thanks to the twoleg calf in front of me.  
«You are good.»

I knew it would the last thing the twoleg would say to me.  
The friendly twoleg.  
The she-twoleg who had freed me from the mean-twolegs that kept me prisoner inside their roaring beast and probably saved my life by doing so: very few returned from those strange creatures.  
The she-twoleg who had shown me how I could transform into a twoleg and a strange deer-twoleg to protect my herd.  
The she-twoleg who cared about me while every other twolegs in her herd wanted to kill me even if I had helped – and saved – them many times.  
She had even begun to teach me how to speak twoleg and had only stopped when she had no choice but to leave me behind in order to protect her herd – even then, she still hated herself for doing that.  
But she didn't have to feel that way. She  _shouldn't_  feel that way!  
She didn't have any choice. She had to protect her herd before protecting me; just like I had to protect my herd before protecting the friendly twoleg.  
Before she could answer, one of those wingless flying beasts buzzed into sight and I realized I would never know if the friendly twoleg understood that she didn't have to feel bad for me. I realized I was living my last seconds of my short life.  
I saw a straight line of light – brighter than a thousand lightnings in a moonless Dark – appear next to me.  
I'm not sure what happened next. I was too confused, tired and stunned by the flash of the silent lightning to be really conscious of what was happening. All I know for sure is that had been thrown in the air and that I fell asleep soon after crashing on the ground.

* * *

It was already the Dark when I woke up.  
Well, to be more accurate, regained consciousness.  
More or less.  
It was like if my mind was trapped in a fog so heavy I could swim in it.  
How did I end up like this? No. It wasn't important for now. I had to look on my herd and make sure the mean twolegs had not attacked it.

I stood up and looked around before making a tentative step forward – even if the "fog" had become a little lighter, it was still there, nonetheless – and fell loudly on the ground as I felt a sharp pain in my front left leg. A quick look showed me that it was bend at the wrong place in a weird angle.  
Broken. Badly. No way I could walk back to my herd with a leg in this state.  
Or maybe I could do it if I transformed into a twoleg? Unlike us, they only walked on their rear legs: going back to my herd with my  _front_  leg broken wouldn't be a problem.  
I closed my eyes and pictured the twoleg I had attacked in my mind – just like the friendly twoleg had shown me. I pictured the weird fur they all had, their weird hooves they had on their rear legs, their hornless head and their tailless body.  
I heard some weird noises coming from my body as it gradually changed to the mean twoleg I had rammed this Sun.  
Soon after, the noises stopped and I was a twoleg.

I slowly stood up and looked at my twoleg body with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Apart the fake hooves and the weird coloured fur, I was a perfect copy of the mean twoleg. Like him, I had that weird head with eyes that only allowed me to see what was directly in front of me but allowed me to see colors that were unknown to me. Like him, I had their pathetically soft hooves they walked on (No wonder they always wore fake ones!). Like him, I had the peculiar front hooves able to take what I wanted. Like him, my rear knees bended  _forward_  and not backward, as they should. Like him, I had a funny pointy nose that wasn't able to smell anything. Like him, I had ears that barely worked. Like him, I lacked a tail. And, finally, just like all twolegs, I lacked horns.  
No wonder they always ran to their beasts as soon as I walked too fast toward them. With no horns, no (real) sense of smell, no (real) sense of audition, no ability to see behind them and no hooves worth of the name, it was a miracle they were able to live long enough to make calves! Even a young crippled wolf cub would beat the strongest twoleg of their strongest herd without problem!  
The two ends of my twoleg mouth went higher on my face – I think twolegs called that a "smile"; they did that when they were happy or found something funny.  
Anyway. Now wasn't the time to wonder how twolegs managed to survive. I had to go back to my herd. And, for that, I had to walk as a twoleg – something that was quite hard since they could only use two of their hooves.  
Cautiously, I started to walk like the friendly twoleg had shown me before. I made one step at a time while focusing on my balance – which was much harder than it sounded like since it was Dark. It was even  _too_ hard to walk like this at Dark. I was more used to walk as myself (duh) and, really, why would I care about a broken leg? I was a buffalo! I didn't care about a little pain when I had to protect my herd!  
And, on that, I started to transform into my real self – just like the friendly twoleg had also taught me.  
Once I was done, I had the very pleasant surprise of discovering that my leg wasn't broken anymore, as if the mean twolegs had never attacked me at all. This changed everything. I was faster than a twoleg and, with my mighty horns and hooves, would have no problem defending the herd from the mean twolegs if they attacked.  
I crossed the path the twoleg's beasts travelled on and ran toward the place where my herd was as I realized how sad it must be to be a twoleg. With only two legs, how could they know how it felt like to run without constantly paying attention to your balance? It ruined all the fun of running!  
Maybe I could teach the friendly twoleg how to run on four hooves like a real buffalo? That way, she could stop worrying about falling down while running. I'm sure she would like it.

Shortly after having this nice idea, I noticed what appeared to be a wooden barrier in front of me. HA! Did the twolegs  _really_  think it was enough to stop me? Let's show them how pathetic their "barrier" was! I accelerated until I was running as fast as I possibly could and lowered my head so my horns pointed at the so-called barrier. I didn't care if the noise would wake up any twolegs. I wanted to send a message to the mean-twolegs: mess with me, and you will end up like your little barrier.  
No, that wasn't a good idea.  
The twolegs – both the mean and the friendly one – thought I was dead. If I destroyed their barrier and went back to my herd, they would know I was still alive and they might decide to attack me again.  
And if they did, they could accidentally hurt the other buffalos in my herd.

I quickly turned to my left – barely avoiding the twoleg's barrier – and headed for the forest I had noticed during Sun. I had to hide from the twolegs. As long as they thought I was dead, they wouldn't try to find me or attack my herd. I had to deal with the lightning-twolegs alone. Without my herd.  
No. Not alone. The lightning-twolegs were too strong for me: the only way I could beat them was to find the only twoleg I could trust and ask for her help; I knew her herd fought the lightning-twolegs.  
But, before doing that, I had to learn how humans behaved and talked to each other. And, to be able to learn it, I had to find out how I could transform. For now, I could only transform into one twoleg and the deer-twoleg – I had already tried, without success, to turn into a bird when I wanted to find the friendly-twoleg after I had lost her.  
So, what did the deer-twoleg and the mean-twoleg shared but didn't share with the other? Both of them had attacked me? No. Plenty of other twolegs had done the same. Both of them were strange? No. All twolegs were weird. I had attacked both of them? No. I had defended the friendly-twoleg from every treats I had seen – which included a lot more twolegs than the one I could transform into.  
Wait… I had attacked a lot of twolegs but I had only rammed the deer-twoleg and the mean-twoleg. Was that the common point I searched? Did I need to touch something if I wanted to transform into it? Now that I thought about it, the friendly twoleg had touched me before transforming into a buffalo.  
It was worth a try. If all I had to do was to touch something, it would be easy for me to transform into something twolegs would never suspect: the beasts they used to travel. If I transformed into one, I would be able to go everywhere they lived and none of them would suspect me. And the best thing was that these beasts were so stupid that they didn't even think of fleeing when they were attacked. All they did was calling for help and hope their twolegs would come to help them before it was too late.  
By the time I had reached this conclusion, I was already walking casually in the forest while I tried to find a nice wallow where I could drink and eat some tasty grass.

"Screaeeaeae"  
I saw – and heard – a bird watching me from his hollow. I had never seen one like that. He didn't have any feathers on him. Strange. All birds I had seen so far were covered in feathers.  
Maybe I should try to touch him and see if I could transform into a bird? If I succeeded, it would prove I was right about the "common point" and it would also allow me to fly in the air to find the perfect place to live in the forest as well as making it easier to spy on the twolegs if I couldn't find a way to touch their beasts without being seen. I turned around and faced the bird in his hollow. He didn't appear to be happy about my presence but it didn't matter: even if he managed to hurt me, I could always transform into a twoleg before going back into my normal form.  
I approached his hollow – trying not to look like I was going to touch the occupant – until I was close enough to touch the bird with my head. I wasn't sure what to expect from him; unlike most birds, he hadn't flown away. Was he waiting for the perfect moment to attack me or was I so good at "ignoring" him that he thought I hadn't seen him? Anyway, it was too late for him. Even if he wanted to fly away, I knew I would have the time to bump him with my head.  
Unfortunately, a white-faced bird attacked me before I was able to touch the small bird in the hollow. It had happened so fast! I had barely noticed a blur in front of me before feeling the bird's hooves on my head and heard no sound coming from him.  
I turned my head away and shook it as hard as I could to make the whiteface go away. Without much surprise, it didn't take long for the whiteface to become tired to the point where he fell down on the ground as if he wanted to sleep there: when you're that small, you can't have a lot of endurance. I didn't waste time and continued my search: I would find another bird to touch later.  
Or not.  
I had already touched the whiteface so, if my assumption was correct, I would be able to become a whiteface just like I could become a deer-twoleg and a twoleg.  
I walked away for a few moments so that the whiteface wouldn't attack me as soon as I would become one and pictured his body in my mind.  
I heard the same strange noises I had heard the few times I transformed before and noticed myself become smaller and smaller.  
I was right.  
I could become anything I touched, and I was about to fly.

Finding a new wallow would be easy.

Spying on the twolegs would be even easier.


	2. The introduction

After my encounter with the whiteface, I had passed two full moons spying on the twolegs. Surprisingly, even if I had passed a lot of time trying to understand how the transformations worked, these two moons had been more than enough to learn how to speak their strange language and discover how they behaved. I wish I could understand why I was able to learn their language and their behaviour so fast but, for now, I could only think of three reasons and couldn't tell which one, if any, was correct; I would have to ask that to the friendly twoleg when I would meet her.

The first reason was that, since I had met the friendly twoleg, I was able to understand the world much better than I used to. What used to make no sense or looked like magic was now easy to comprehend. In example, let's take the cores. Before meeting the friendly twoleg, I couldn't understand them. They appeared to me as some weird beasts: they allowed some twolegs to get inside them but screamed when others wanted to do the same thing, they did nothing to protect themselves apart calling for help and were so clumsy that they managed to run into each other. Now, I knew why they were so weird: the twolegs built them. As incredible as it might seem, twolegs had figured out how to  _create_  life; even if, unfortunately for them, they seemed to be unable to create  _intelligent_ life and, as a result, could only build stupid beasts that depended on them for everything. Personally, I didn't see the point of doing that but, as I said, twolegs are weird.  
The second reason, also related to whatever had happened to me, was that I  _wanted_ to learn. Before my Encounter, I liked to learn something new – just in case it could help the herd – but it was always passive; I never bothered to actively seek an answer unless I was sure it would directly help my herd. However, after the friendly twoleg had talked to me, I  _wanted_ to learn. I wanted to  _actively_ seek the answers to the how and why of this world, no matter if it would help the herd or if it would never be of any use in my entire life. Learning something new – in example, why the cores could be so dumb and clumsy – felt like eating delicious grass in a beautiful wallow; I think the twolegs called this need to learn "curiosity".  
Finally, the third reason was simply that twolegs were laughably predictable. Sure, they all boasted about how they could do whatever they liked even if it went against their instincts but, in the end, even a calf could predict their actions. The easiest (and also funniest) way to notice it was to transform into a woodhorn – which I had touched while trying to figure out how the transformation worked – and place myself in the middle of a core's path. At first, the twolegs would stop to look at me but, after some time, their beasts would become angry and would start to shout at me – quickly imitated by the twolegs inside. The sole exception was if there were calves inside the beast. When it was the case, the calves would always ask their parents to stop and would try to touch me if I went close enough. I had done that a lot of time just to amuse myself. It was hilarious to see the twolegs do the exact same thing every time only to hear them brag over how "free" they were to make their own decisions.  
Anyway, I have to stay on track. Twolegs were so strange and funny I could talk about them for many moons.

So, as I was saying, I had passed enough time spying on the twolegs to become quite familiar with their language. I was able to formulate, in my mind, the answers I could give to a twoleg I was speaking to fast to enough to maintain a conversation and, thanks to a lot of practice and a bit of luck, I was also able to make the correct sounds with a twoleg mouth. In theory, I could easily act as if I were one of them by simply going in a large twoleg wallow and pictured myself as a twoleg until I turned into one. After that, all I needed to do was to stay focused and make sure to appear as "twoleg" as possible.  
Of course, that was only in theory. I hadn't tested my ability yet, by fear of doing something wrong and being captured by a mean twoleg; the only interactions I had with them were in my whiteface form or in the woodhorn one.  
But this Sun was the Sun. This was the Sun in which I would, for the first time, go in the big twoleg's wallow and act as if I were in their herd.  
I took a mouthful of grass for good luck and pictured myself as a whiteface until, a few moments later, I had become one.

As soon as I arrived in their wallow, I went in my favourite hiding spot and turned back into myself before turning once again in a whiteface. Since my first day spying on the twolegs, I had taken the habit of regularly turning back into a buffalo: I couldn't be sure if it was needed or not but I had heard a mother tell a story to her calves about a father who was transformed into a barker because he wasn't kind to his calves and had ten Suns to help them or he would stay as a barker forever; it was probably just a story but, just to be sure, I had took the decision to turn back into myself regularly – flying was fun, obviously, but I didn't want to spend the rest of my life eating squickers instead of delicious grass.  
After taking a few breaths to get used to the fantastic hearing of the whiteface, I took off and searched for a twoleg with whom I could test myself. Despite having practiced for a long time, I was quite nervous about what I was about to do, as I didn't have any margin of error. If whichever twoleg I tested myself with discovered I was actually a buffalo, the mean twolegs would capture me; if it happened, they would use some kind of twoleg technology and, as one of the good humans had said, "tap into my memory". I didn't know why, but I knew it would be bad for the good twolegs and, indirectly, to my herd.  
So, just to be sure it wouldn't happen (and to be a little less nervous), I decided to practice a conversation for one last time before the final test. It wouldn't take a lot of time – twolegs were easy to find and spoke a  _lot_  – and it would ensure I didn't put my herd in danger.

Using the upwinds to fly without efforts, I travelled toward a part of the wallow where I could find a lot of human dens – I think they called it suburb – and started to look for twolegs talking to each other. Of course, because things  _had_  to be difficult on the most important day, I couldn't find any opportunities despite the amazing hearing of the whiteface. Every time I found a twoleg, he was already inside his den and, most of the time, in front of his image-box to watch other twolegs run into each other; sometime, the twolegs would get happy when a twoleg inside the image-box would get near the end of the wallow but other time, he would be angry.  
But difficult didn't mean impossible: I was a buffalo trying to defend his herd and nothing would stop me, save for my death. Hence, like any buffalo would have done, I continued to search and, just as I was about take a break to find somewhere to turn back into myself, I heard a noise I often heard in the twoleg's dens: buttons being typed on a telephone – which, for those who don't know, is a small animal who did nothing but listen to the twolegs after calling them. I silently thanked the whiteface's exceptional hearing, turned toward the den in which the twoleg was and, after a short flight, landed in front of his window just in time to see him talk to the telephone.

"Hi. I imagine you received the letter I sent you?"  
_I did. It was a very pretty letter even if I prefer the letter T._  
I knew it was unlikely that this was what the small animal would answer, but my goal was mostly to see if I could think of something to say in twoleg fast enough to pass as one of them.  
"Good, good. And I suppose you also received my… instructions."  
_I did receive them. I managed to understand them, even if they were as complicated as Ikea's instructions._  
The last part was twoleg's humour. I didn't know who Ikea was or why his instructions were complicated, but I knew twolegs found it funny.  
"Why? Because I'm not enough of a fool to announce to Visser 3 we lost to the bandits once again."  
Visser 3?  
I was sure I had heard this name before but… where?  
"Sure, you could do that. Nothing can stop you… But you never know what an investigation can reveal. "  
Visser 3… Visser 3…Visser 3… Where did I hear it? I knew I had heard that one! I knew it was important! Think!  
"You know what I'm talking about. Just like I know the Visser would be… displeased… to learn your loyalty goes to his sworn enemy."  
Visser… Enemy…  
Gaah! I knew I was close! Why couldn't I remember that?  
" Yes. Oh, one last thing before I quit. You may be pleased to know that, if something were to happen to me, a few friends of mine would immediately release this information. I hope you will the good choice. "  
Visser… Enemy… friends… good…  
The friendly twoleg!  
That's where I had heard of Visser 3!  
He was the chief of the mean twolegs!  
I had to tell the friendly twoleg what I had just heard. I didn't know enough about the mean twolegs nor could I speak the twoleg language well enough to be sure the good herd wasn't in danger.

I immediately took off and headed for the first place where I could turn back into myself without being seen. I didn't care about passing as a twoleg anymore. What I did care about was finding the friendly twoleg as soon as possible.  
Beside, it was the best option. She wasn't like the other twolegs. She was friendly. If I didn't manage to pass as a twoleg, she wouldn't capture me. She would help me just like she had helped me last time. On top of that, if I practiced with her, I would have the occasion to talk to the leader of her herd and, hopefully, he would allow me to fight with them. Immediately after reaching this conclusion, I started to transform into a whiteface. I knew it was the best thing to do to protect my herd.  
I took off as soon as my body allowed it – before I had even fully transformed – and flew as quickly as I could to my usual hiding place. I knew – well, thought – that the friendly human was more likely to be in that part of her wallow.  
For the first time since I had met the friendly twoleg, I didn't flew around to spy on her species. I wasn't flying aimlessly or stopped when I heard twolegs talking together. I wasn't paying attention to what twolegs were doing or saying. It wasn't important anymore. This time, I was only looking at their faces. This time, my flight was planned and organized. This time, I wasn't flying wherever I felt like it but in a planned pattern as to be sure to cover as much ground as I could. And, unlike before, I wasn't planning to return to my wallow to practice what I had learned every two "turn-backs". I would search until I would be exhausted to the point where I would barely be able to fly back to my wallow.  
This decision was, without doubt, the most important of my life. During the last two moons, I had often heard the twolegs say that fate had a strange taste of humour. At the time, I couldn't understand what it meant: when they said it, they were always talking about a sad story, not a funny one. But now, I understood. It didn't mean the story was funny. It meant that the  _causes_  of the story were funny, according to twoleg's humour.  
I guess it would apply to my story too. It wasn't sad, but the  _causes_  would probably be funny for a twoleg. The reason why I would, hopefully, find the friendly twoleg was because of the very decision I had just taken. Which I had taken because I had heard a mean twoleg talk to his telephone. Which happened because I had been spying on the twolegs before. And the only reason I had been doing that was to fight the mean twolegs – which was something I wanted to do just because the friendly twoleg had told me that they were mean. I would need to ask the twoleg-buffalo to be sure, but I was certain twolegs would find it funny.  
Anyway.  
Now was not the time to ponder over twoleg's humour. Now was the time to search for the friendly twoleg-buffalo as long as I could without falling asleep inside the twoleg's wallow.

Which, sadly, didn't meant a really long time. Transforming into myself and into a whiteface immediately afterward demanded a lot of energy and it was far from being the Dark when I had to go back to my wallow.  
Of course, I was a little disappointed. I knew it was the best thing to do and that there was no chance whatsoever that I could find the friendly twoleg because of how exhausted I was but I still felt like I wasn't doing as much as I should to protect my herd. I hadn't searched for a very long time – due to how tiring transforming was – and had barely covered a small portion of the wallow. If my search continued at that rate, it would take me moons to find her – and that was assuming she would stay at the same place during the whole time I would look for her. Searching the way I had done so far was a lost cause: even if I could transform in a fastbird – which, for the record, often tried to eat me when I was in my whiteface form – I wouldn't be fast enough to look in the entire wallow fast enough to find her. I had to think of where she would likely be before trying to find her again.  
But, again, I was too exhausted to do that today. At best, I wouldn't be able to think of anything; at worse, I would reach incorrect conclusions and search in the wrong place. For now, I had to go in my wallow to eat and relax for the remainder of the day.  
I looked around for the last time – just in case – and turned toward my wallow. Soon after, I changed my mind: instead of grazing in my wallow, as usual, why not graze somewhere else for a change? I could remember a place where the grass looked quite delicious and, if I were lucky enough, I would find a way to turn back and graze without being seen.

Pushed by the sentiment of curiosity (but mostly hunger), I quickly flew toward my destination and looked for if there was any twolegs around the place I planned to eat – the last thing I wanted was to be spotted by a mean twoleg.  
And then, while I was about to land and turn into myself, I heard her voice.  
The only twoleg voice I could recognize without difficulty.  
The friendly twoleg was there.

I flew above her and started to fly in circle, wondering how I should tell her I was here, and heard her tell to another twoleg that they should go in the barn. Without thinking of what I was doing, I turned toward the nearest barn I could find, hoping she was talking about that one, and swooped inside before landing as soon as I could. I wasn't tired anymore; the prospect of talking to the good calves was too exciting.  
Then, knowing I needed to be in my twoleg form to talk to her, I quickly changed back into my own self and transformed into a twoleg the moment I was done; I didn't bother to transform with the weird fur they all had: twolegs only needed it because they were too weak to handle the environment and, anyway, it would have taken too much time.

Before I could even get on my two "hooves", I saw a redtail perch above me. Almost at the same time, a twoleg calf ran in front of me with a look of surprise and incomprehension; she was one of the good twolegs.  
I had finally found the herd of the friendly twoleg.


	3. The Friendly Twoleg

The rest of the herd – including the friendly twoleg and the deer-twoleg – arrived shortly after. Oddly, all of them seemed uncomfortable when looking at my twoleg body and they always tried to look only at my head without seeing the rest of my body; as if the sight of a twoleg without its artificial fur was too strange for them to bear.

“That is so weird.” That came from the twoleg convinced I couldn’t learn but only mimic what I saw. Despite being very tempting, I had to refrain from mimicking everything he would say until one of the calves would understand who I was: I couldn’t be sure if the twolegs would find it funny and, even if they would, it would way take too much time for them to understand.  
“It can’t be Chapman. I saw him on my way here.” This time, it was from the calf that had argued the most for my death – toward the “let’s kill him” option. Needless to say, I wasn’t really fond of her.  
“Mr. Chapman, is that you?” Their leader asked me after giving a quick look at a bird perching in the rafters.

I didn’t know what to answer. I knew I could transform into a twoleg but I had no idea of which twoleg it was. I didn’t even know if that Mister Chapman was with the bad twolegs or with the good ones. It wasn’t a problem – since I would soon tell them I wasn’t Mister, but since I wasn’t expecting to find them so soon, I hadn’t practiced an actual conversation with a real twoleg: I was afraid I would say something wrong that would make them think I wanted to attack their herd and/or that I was with the bad twolegs; all but one of these calves wished my death and I feared I would be killed if I gave the wrong answer without having a chance to explain my mistake.  
This meant the safest option was, ironically, to get closer to the twoleg’s herd. Well, to be exact, I didn’t have to get closer to the herd in itself but closer to one of its member: the friendly twoleg. She would, of course, put the safety of her herd before me but I knew she was kind and that she would help me. She was, after all, the friendly twoleg.  
I slowly stood up – mostly because I didn’t want to look like a threat but also because twolegs only had two hooves to stand on – and made a few steps toward Cassie.

< Do not move, human. >  
The deer-twoleg had put his blade near my throat. It had happened so fast I hadn’t even seen the tail move.  
Was Mister Chapman one of the bad twolegs and the calves thought I was him? It would certainly explain why they appeared so cautious around me. In any case, I had to let them know I wasn’t with the bad twolegs and that I had no intention to attack their herd.

“I…am…not…Chapman.” I said as carefully as I could – I had practiced talking in my twoleg form in the past but this was the first time I would do it to communicate with another twoleg. The last thing I wanted was to say something the wrong way and be so unlucky that whatever I would say would turn out to be an insult or a threat in the twoleg language; which would be more likely to happen than one might expect since a some twoleg words sounded extremely similar to each other.  
“Who are you, then?” Asked the leader of the twoleg’s herd.  
The day after I met the twoleg herd for the first time, I had often imagined this moment. The moment where I would meet the herd of the friendly twoleg, explain them who I was and why Cassie should feel bad. Each time, I answered the question he had just asked me without problems. After all, I only needed to give them a twoleg name and finding said twoleg name had been incredibly easy (less than a Sun after starting my activities, I had already decided to name myself "Cassie" – just like the friendly twoleg). But now, however, I was realizing things wouldn’t be so simple. Sure, “Cassie” was a real twoleg name but it was also the name of the friendly twoleg – who, obviously, was currently with her herd in front of me.  
Basically, if I answered my twoleg name was Cassie, they would automatically assume I was joking or trying to pass as a member of their herd; I could, of course, tell them I was the buffalo they saw a few moons ago but I doubted they would believe me – not to mention the deer-twoleg might decide to kill me before I could even speak to the friendly twoleg to prove my identity.  
Long story short: there were no good answers.  
Unless…  
What if I told the friendly twoleg what I wanted her to know without presenting myself? Perhaps, when I would be done, the twolegs would allow me to leave if I promised not to come back.  
Wait, no. That was stupid. They already saw me as a possible threat. They couldn’t allow me to leave as long as they thought I might harm them; and, if I talked to the friendly twoleg without telling whom I was, they might be convinced I really was a threat.  
This basically meant I had no options. If I told my “real” twoleg name, they wouldn’t believe me; if I told I was the buffalo, they wouldn’t believe me either and if I tried to talk to the friendly twoleg, they would think I was threatening them.  
Or… What if I tried to make them happy? Twolegs always seemed to be gentler when they were happier so, if I managed to do it, it could give me some additional time to think of what to say.  
And, as a bonus, it wasn’t that hard to make a twoleg happy. All I had to do was to imitate a specific call of the radio (a man-made animal whose sole purpose was to talk).

“If you guess who I am in less than three guesses, you will win a two weeks trip in Paris for two persons.”  
To be honest, I didn’t really what it meant (the radio never bothered to explain what a Paris was). All I knew was that, according to the strange animal, twolegs were always happy to hear that – especially if they won the prize.  
< We do not have time to play games. > Said the deer-twoleg as he slightly moved his tail forward until it touched my throat.  
Even if I hadn’t spied on any deer-twolegs, I could understand the message easily: if I didn’t say the correct answer now, I would be killed.  
The problem? There weren’t any “right” answers – or, if there was one, I didn’t know it.  
But the friendly twoleg would help me, right? I wasn’t putting the herd in danger and, unlike the others, she was friendly; she wouldn’t want me to be killed without reasons and, if I were in danger, she would even protect me. If I tried the “seeking help from the friendly twoleg” option, I might get out of here alive after telling her what she had to know. And, since it wasn’t particularly hard to do, it seemed like a good plan (or, at least, the less worse plan available).  
However, if I wanted to do such a plan, I needed time. I needed time to explain to her who I was. I needed a few extra seconds to “prove” who I was to the friendly twoleg before the rest of the herd would assume I was dangerous to them.

“Listen, I come in peace.” I started “ I don’t want to harm you. I know this presentation didn’t really start on the right hoo… foot, but I swear I am no threat.” I looked at the face of all the members of the herds; so far, none of them looked too angry. “ I didn’t come to harm you or anything like that. I just came to talk to you.”  
I turned my head toward the friendly twoleg and, by doing so, became unable to see the entirety of the herd. Normally, as a buffalo, I would still see everything around me but, alas, twoleg eyes could only see what was in front of them; apart for the colors, those eyes were pretty much useless. It was, of course, something that made me nervous but I didn’t have the luxury to do anything else.  
“ A few moons ago, we met each other.” I told the friendly twoleg. “ We didn’t stay together for a long time but, when you left me, you said I was good and thanked me for saving your life.” Even if I had only spied on the twolegs for two moons, I could already tell she had understood who I was; she just couldn’t really believe it yet – for her, the odds of this happening were so low that there had to be an alternative explanation. She knew it was real, but couldn’t believe it. “ And when you left, you looked sad, as if you deeply regretted what you were doing.”  
This was it. The moment I had for which I had worked for two moons. I would finally tell the friendly twoleg what she needed to know.  
“ I just wanted to say you were good too. You did what you needed to do to protect your herd.”  
As soon as I had finished my sentence, the friendly twoleg understood – or, rather, believed – I really was the buffalo.  
“How did you survive?” She asked – which making it the first time the young calf talked to me and expected an answer.  
“ I didn’t do anything, really. The bad twolegs simply didn’t aimed correctly and the lightning stroke close to me without killing me.” I didn’t need to explain who was “they”. Both of us knew I was talking about the mean twolegs. “ So, yeah. I was just lucky.”  
I couldn’t tell what she was feeling. She was obviously glad I wasn’t dead but she was also bothered by all the problems my survival would cause; starting with how the rest of her herd would want me to be dead and might even kill me if they had the chance – that I wasn’t a threat was irrelevant, as they clearly shown last time I saw them.  
“ Jake? He won’t attack us.” Said the friendly twoleg to the leader of her herd. “He’s not a threat.”

I knew I was safe, now. As long as it didn’t put her herd in danger, the friendly twoleg would help me.  
And, if I was lucky enough, she might even teach me how to properly transform myself; last time, she didn’t knew I could understand her, I couldn’t answer back to her and we had to avoid the mean twolegs during the lessons. I wasn’t a teacher but I doubted it was the ideal condition to learn something completely new.  
“Cassie, you know him?”  
I didn’t really like the twoleg who had just talked. When I had first met his herd, he kept saying I wasn’t learning but merely mimicking – which, according to him, meant it was ok to kill me in cold blood; then again, apart the friendly one, I didn’t really like any of these twolegs – even if they hadn’t said it out loud, they had all agreed with him.  
Part of was tempted to say I would show them who I was and that they didn’t have to worry since I had seen a lot of twolegs tell who they were to another twoleg – meaning I could mimic a presentation without difficulties. It was, however, simpler (and safer) to just turn back into my normal body. (Not to mention I wasn’t sure if it was funny for a twoleg’s standar).

“ I can show you. “ I said to the twoleg herd. “ I think it will be simpler that way.” I looked at the friendly twoleg to see if it was the correct thing to do. As I had noticed each time I transformed myself, the transformation wasn’t instantaneous and there was no way to control how it happened; I didn’t want the calves in front of me to assume I was attacking them if the transformation made me move as if I was about to hurt them (or to think the sole reason I was transforming was to attack them in a more powerful form).  
As soon as Cassie nodded (which was a twoleg way of saying “yes”), I spoke to the deer-twoleg.  
“If you could remove you tail from my throat, it would be appreciated.” I told him. I already knew how sharp the blade was and I wasn’t enough of a fool to transform myself with one placed on my throat – doing so would be begging for an accident.  
“Do it, Ax.” The leader said to the deer-twoleg who complied after a few seconds of hesitation.  
Once the blade was out of the way, I concentrated on my buffalo form and, as always, the transformation didn’t seem to follow any specific order.

The first thing to change was my head. Slowly, I felt it become heavier and heavier – to the point where I could no longer support it with my frail twoleg body and fell on the ground – while the fingers of my soft, twoleg, hooves merged to form the solid, buffalo, hooves I was used to. Once I had regained the eyes that allowed me to see all around me – included the calves standing in shock in front of me – my twolegs legs became stronger and stronger while my beloved tail started to form. With little to no delays, my twoleg arms grew stronger and became the front legs I was used to at the same moment my tail had completely formed. Finally, my fur started to appear and the rest of my twoleg body soon followed to turn into the body of a buffalo. My real body.

There was a short moment of silence as every members of the herd grasped the situation. Of course, they were smart enough to understand my identity long before I had finished the transformation, but seeing me in my normal form was still a shock for them. Not only they took for granted I had died long ago, but they also thought I wasn’t intelligent enough to act like a twoleg (or even learn to talk in the first place).

“No way.” Said the calf who used to be convinced I could only mimic.


	4. the other twolegs

I stayed like this for a short moment (their faces were so funny!) before slowly transforming into a twoleg again. I couldn’t talk their language in my natural form and, since they were probably going to ask me a lot of questions, I had no choices but to be in a form in which I could answer them.  
Not to mention I didn’t fully trust them yet: I knew they wouldn’t be as quick to kill me if I looked like a member of their species as if I was in my normal body.  
As always, morphing into a twoleg wasn’t pretty – not that morphing could be pretty, anyway.  It didn’t follow any specific order and, just to make things even weirder, it was never the same “steps”. For this transformation, the first thing to change were my four hooves  - briefly making me worried I would break a few bones since twoleg hooves weren’t made to support the weight of a buffalo – soon followed by my head (and, sadly, my buffalo vision); then my tail disappeared (booo!), the legs switched to their twoleg form and, finally, whatever remnants of my normal body was still left turned into their twoleg equivalent.

I turned toward the friendly twoleg and did my best impression of a smile – twolegs considered it to be a sign of thankfulness.  
“ Again, you don’t have to feel bad for what you did that day. You did what you had to do to protect your herd. However, before you went away, you protected me as if I was part of your herd. The only reason I am still alive today is because you helped me. You should be proud of what you did, not feel bad about it.”   
Even if I could see Cassie still had regrets, I ended my speech. She was obviously happy I had survived and I knew I lacked the experience in twoleg conversation to convince her she should be proud instead of having regrets. At best, I wouldn’t change anything and, at worse, I would say something wrong and make her feel even worse.

“How did you find us?” Their leader asked me.  
“Can you tell what happened to me? I’m not as smart as you humans but I know it’s not normal for a buffalo to turn into other animals.” I asked the friendly twoleg while ignoring the herd’s leader – he wasn’t my leader and, since he was probably seeing me as a mere nuisance, I didn’t see the point of helping him.  
“Hey, listen. I know you’re confused about all that but you have to answer me. How did you find us?” Again, apart a quick glimpse at the herd’s leader, I ignored him and, instead, waited for the friendly twoleg to answer.  
“Hey! I don’t care who you are but will you answer NOW!”  
To be honest, I wasn’t surprised that the calf who had just shouted angrily me was the same calf who strongly argued for my death. Even if I hadn’t stayed very long with the friendly twoleg’s herd, I knew she could be quite aggressive and was quick to attack. But, fortunately, my observations had taught me how to deal with angry twolegs and how to make them stop talking.  
Just like I had seen so many twolegs do, I closed my left twoleg hoof and pointed the back of it toward the angry twoleg. Then, without looking at her, I slowly raised the longest finger; thought I didn’t know the exact meaning - mostly because the signification was so secret even mothers refused to explain it to their own cubs – I knew it was used to tell someone to stop talking.

I was slammed on the wall.  
“ Answer. The. Fucking. Question.”  
Damn twoleg eyes. Thanks to them, I hadn’t seen the calf approaching me before her attack.   
But this wasn’t the right moment to rant about the twoleg’s vision. Right now, I was attacked in my twoleg form and, even if I had seen a few combats on the TV, I had never been in an actual combat as a twoleg nor was I particularly strong in this form – compared to my real one, that is.  
Which meant I didn’t have the choice: I had to turn back into myself. Sure, I would be very vulnerable during the transformation part but, as long as I stayed twoleg, my chance of winning any kind of combat was virtually null – not to mention I would rather die as myself than as a twoleg.

“Oh, don’t you dare demorph!”  
I knew it. The young twoleg calf wanted to attack me.  
Honestly, I didn’t want to fight against her. Not because I was afraid to lose (no twolegs can even hope to win against a buffalo during that kind of fight) but because I knew I would injure her; even if I tried to be gentle, I was too strong for a young calf like her and, since she was part of her herd, I knew it would make Cassie sad.   
But still, I had to continue. If I wanted to have any chance to defend myself against another twoleg, I had to be in my normal form: I was simply too inexperienced to fight as a twoleg – and, with some luck, having to face a buffalo might dissuade Cassie’s friend from…

“You two, stop fighting. “ Cassie said after placing herself between her friend and me – effectively preventing any of us from attacking the other. “Everyone else, just calm down.”  
She turned toward me and waited until I had finished demorphing – which didn’t took very long since I was practically finished by then.

“Listen, I know you’re worried about your… herd.” Cassie said, almost looking like my herd wasn’t something we should talk about. “But I’m worried about my herd too, you understand?” I moved my head up and down to show Cassie I understood her. If I were in her position, I would want to get answers as soon as possible too.  
“Remember how my herd was attacked when we met? The... the herd that attacked us mustn’t know we’re humans. That’s why we have to know how you find us. We must be sure the other herd can’t do the same.“  
She made a few steps toward me and smiled.  
“So, please, tell us how you found us. It’s really important for my herd to know that.“  
Again, I moved my head up and down a few times. I wanted Cassie to know I would tell everything she wanted to know before I demorphed – I knew it would take a while before I would be a twoleg and I didn’t want her to worry in the meantime.  
I would, however, need to ask her not to take too much time to ask the questions. I had transformed so many time today I was surprised I hadn’t fell asleep in front of the twoleg herd; thought I would become a twoleg for her, I wouldn’t do it a second time before a good nap.  
Not that it would be a problem, anyway. If I didn’t have the time to answer every questions, nothing prevented me from going back to my meadow, sleep for the Dark and come back to talk with Cassie as long as needed the next Sun.  
I snorted in the direction of the calf who tried to attack me – just for good measures – and focused on my twoleg form.

“No, wait. Don’t morph for now. There might be a way for you to talk even when you’re a buffalo.” She said as the first changes began to appear.  
I stopped morphing and slowly returned to my usual form. Whatever she would tell me to do, I would. I knew I could trust her. Unlike the others, she wanted to help me. She wouldn’t get rid of me unless it was strictly necessary for her herd – which was very unlikely to happen since the mean twolegs weren’t around and I had no intention to threaten her herd.  
Not to mention being able to talk to them without having to change into a twoleg could be very useful.

“Ax? Do you think he can use thought-speak?” She asked the deer-twoleg only to sight before anyone answered her.  
“Hey, remember the voice you heard in your head when one of us threatened you?” She asked after turning toward me.  
I nodded, puzzled. Was this why I hadn’t heard anyone answering her? Had she heard that voice in her head without me hearing it?  
“It’s called thought-speak” She continued. “That’s what we use to talk to each other when we change into other animals. We’re not sure about it, but it’s possible you could use it too. Do you want to try it?”  
I nodded.  
“Ok, so just… direct your thoughts at me.

 _Do you hear me?  
_ I wasn’t really sure how to “direct” my thoughts. Was merely thinking sufficient? Was I supposed to imagine my thoughts “traveling” toward her or just imagine I was talking to her – using thoughts instead of a voice?  
Anyway, since Cassie hadn’t answered me, simply thinking of what I wanted to say wasn’t the good way to do it.  
 _Hello?  
_ No answers. Clearly, imagining my thoughts travelling to Cassie wasn’t the way to go.  
 _Cassie?  
_ Imagining I was talking to her wasn’t working either.  
Unless I was just unable to use thought-speak for whatever reason; after all, Cassie wasn’t even sure if I could use it in the first place. I moved my head left and right – something twoleg sometime do to say “no” – and hoped Cassie would understand.  
  
“You can’t do it, can you?”  
I did the same movement.  
“Maybe he need to be in morph for that.“ I didn’t need to turn my head to see which calf had just talked: it was the one who thought I could only mimic. Glad to see he had finally understood how wrong he was.  
“Did you transformed into other animals since we last met?”  
I nodded. Sure, apart the deer-twoleg and the twoleg, I had only transformed into a whiteface but it still counted.  
“Can you transform into it, now?”  
Again, I nodded. Even if I was already exhausted by the numerous transformations I had performed today, I knew I had to do it once time – if only to explain I was too tired to answer their questions and ask if we could continue tomorrow. Using every bits of energy I could find, I focused on the whiteface until, finally, it all stopped: I was a whiteface.  
 _  
Do you hear me?_  
No answers. Seem like thinking wasn’t the correct way to thought-speak.  
 _Do you hear me?_  
Again, no answers. Imagining my thought going toward someone wasn’t the correct way either.  
< You hear me? >  
I was starting to get a little worried. If this failed, I had no other ideas of how I could “thought-speak” with the friendly twoleg. The only way to talk with them would be to demorph and transform into a twoleg; something that, sadly, I was too tired to even think about doing – meaning I would have to find a way to tell the young calves I needed a little nap without talking to them.

“Yes, I do. Now, remember you can prevent someone from hearing your thought-speak by not directing your thoughts at that person. So, each time you use it, make sure to only speak with us. If anyone else hear you talking like this, the other herd could understand our herd is mostly twoleg.”

< Like this? Anyone hearing me, please speak up. > I “said”, making sure to only think at Cassie.  
“ I hear you.”  She answered.  
I waited a few moments to see if anyone else had heard me.  
< Anyone else? > I said – again making sure to talk to the friendly twoleg only.  
“Well, seem like you got it.” Cassie said once it was clear nobody but her had heard me.  
< Apparently. > I said to  _her_  before turning toward the herd’s leader.

  
< So, you wanted to ask me some questions, right? > I asked him, making sure the whole herd – and only the herd – would hear me.


	5. A herd?

“Yes” their leader said. “How did you find us?”  
< Luck, basically. > I started. < I was planning to eat some grass around here when I heard Cassie’s voice while I was flying around to make sure I wouldn’t be seen. I landed here and turned into a human after hearing her telling you to go inside the barn. >  
I looked at the friendly twoleg. < So, don’t worry about your herd. I didn’t find you because you left some clues behind but because we happened to be at the same place at the same time. >  
I looked back at the herd’s leader.  
< And, before you ask, I didn’t talk to anyone and nobody noticed me. I live a wallow humans don’t visit very often and turn into a bird whenever I need to hide. Rest assured, apart your herd, nobody know I’m still alive. Not even my own herd. >  
Again, I saw the friendly twoleg look a little uneasy when I mentioned my herd. I was getting a little worried, now. Had something happened to my herd in my absence?  
“ That’s nice to hear. “ The leader asked me. “How did you survived?”  
< I’m not sure. I just woke up in the middle of the Dark… night. The last thing I remember is seeing a bright white flash and some sort of silent lightning falling next to me. I was severely wounded but, as you probably know, transforming heals the injuries. >  
“And what did you do afterward?” He asked, apparently understanding what was that silent lightning.  
< I searched for a place to live and was lucky enough to find one before the end of the night. > I explained. < Since then, there’s nothing really interesting. I just passed most of my time trying to learn your language so I could find you and ask more details about what happened that day. Mostly because it’s the best way to protect my herd from the other herd but also because I’m curious to know more. >

I looked at the friendly twoleg – the one who had saved me even if we weren’t in the same herd.  
< I also wanted to thank you and make sure you didn’t felt bad for going away. > I said in private thought-speech; the others didn’t look too happy to see me and I didn’t want her to be in trouble because of me. < Like I said before, it was the right thing to do. Protecting your own herd is a lot more important than protecting someone from another herd. >

“And what do you know so far?“  
I looked back at their leader.  
< Practically nothing. I know the other herd is bad, that they shoot some sort of silent lightning and that they _hate_ you. As for the transformation thing, all I know is that touching an animal sometime gives me the ability to turn into it.  >  
I stared at the strange group around me – twoleg, deer-twoleg and bird. I didn’t have to know how to read their expressions to understand what each members of the herd wanted to know.

< Look, your herd isn’t in danger. I didn’t discover you by following some clues of any kind and nobody noticed what I was doing. Apart the day we met, this is the first time I talk to anyone or use my human form in front of another human. > I said before staring at Cassie. < I didn’t come here to attack or anything. I just want to know more about the other herd and if they pose a threat to my herd. >  
“Are you sure nobody saw you?”  
I looked back at their leader.  
< I’m absolutely certain. > I started. < I never took any risks. I didn’t want the other herd – or anyone, really – to know I was still alive and well. I even made sure not to leave any clues of my presence in my own wallow just in case anyone visited it while I was away. >  
There was a long moment of lull as the herd’s leader stared at me in silence. Although I wasn’t the leader of my herd, I knew what he was doing. He had asked all the questions he wanted and reflecting on what my answers meant; like any leaders worth of the name, he was trying to see if his herd was in any kind of danger and, if it was the case, what should be done to eliminate the danger. I just had to hope he wouldn’t conclude I was the danger.

< If you don’t have any other questions, can I ask some too? > I asked. < I just want to know about the other herd and if my herd is in danger because of them. >  
I turned toward Cassie before continuing. I knew, being the friendly twoleg, she was the most likely to answer my question.  
< And, optionally, how the transformation work. I think I figured out most of it but there’s still a lot of aspects I can’t understand or don’t know. >

“We can answer some questions, but not all.” The friendly twoleg said after the leader had authorized her. “But you have to promise us you won’t tell anything to anyone except us.”  
< Yes, sure. You have to keep your herd safe from the other one. >  
“Exactly.” The friendly twoleg explained. “So, the other herd isn’t what it look like. Surely, you remember seeing humans and green creatures covered with blades?”  
< Of course. > I answered, nearly offended. <I would _never_ forget something that might threaten my herd.  >  
“ Right. None of them are really part of the herd.” She continued, obviously having some difficulties finding a way to explain it in a way I would, as a buffalo, understand. “The real herd was hiding inside their heads. “They’re called yeerks. They’re an alien parasite trying to invade the earth. Without a host, they look a bit like slugs.”  
She look a short pause, clearly indicating she was getting at the “serious” part.  
“When they find a host, they enter in their head trough their ear channel, flatten themselves on the host’s brain and tap in their memories and thoughts. At that point, the host essentially become a prisoner of his own body. The yeerk simply take over his body and have total control over his actions. The unfortunate host can do nothing except watch the yeerk impersonate him and trap other persons to have them infested.”  
< So, like the _Ophiocordyceps unilateralis?_ Except it’s slug-like and attack humans? >  
Cassie’s blank stare told me she didn’t know what I was talking about.  
< I learned about it by observing a university. It’s a parasitic fungus. It takes control of an ant and makes it hang on a tree above the nest so it can infest even more ants. >  
“Well, yeah, I guess you could compare the yeerk with them. Except the yeerks are invading this planet rather than an ant nest.”  
< How many are they? >  
“Tens of thousands. Possibly more.”  
I was shocked. I didn’t know how large that number was but I knew it was _very_ large. Much more than I could ever hope to handle. With such a large herd, even barehanded twoleg _cubs_ could beat my whole herd. I already knew the other herd was huge and too strong for me, but I had no idea it was _that_ strong; I was convinced I would be able to protect my herd, even if I might not be able to destroy the other herd.  
But, with tens of thousands members and lightning-throwing weapons? It would be suicide to attack them – even if my whole herd was there to help me.  
Which meant I had to work with the transforming herd if I wanted to help mine. If I wanted to protect my herd, I had to make sure Cassie’s herd won the fight against the yeerk’s herd.  
I had to fight with them. Not just by fighting a common enemy but by _collaborating_ with them.

< Can I propose my help? > I asked to the herd’s leader < The yeerks are threatening my herd too and there’s no way I can deal with them by myself. The best way I can help my herd is by helping yours to fight the yeerks. >

“No.” Said the aggressive female to the rest of the herd. “Last time we tried to recruit someone, it ended very badly. I don’t want to deal with another David.”  
< What’s a David? > I privately asked Cassie. < Are they a bad thing? >  
“Later.” She whispered to me before addressing her whole herd. “But we can make it right, this time. We don’t have a huge mission like we had with David. Plus, he’s a buffalo. He wants to protect his herd. He won’t attack us.”  
“Exactly.” Said the calf thinking I couldn’t learn. “He’s a buffalo. We can’t take the chance of recruiting him. I’m sorry, Cassie, but its too risky. He might warn a controller by mistake.”  
< I would never do that. > I knew I wasn’t really supposed to intervene in their discussion. I knew Cassie probably wanted me to wait until the end of it, but my herd was at stake. Assuring the well being of my herd was much more important than respecting the friendly twoleg’s request. < I’m not stupid. Granted, I’m far from being as intelligent as a human but I’m still smart enough to know I can’t fight the yeerks alone. I know the best way I can help my herd is by helping your herd fight them and I also know it begin by making sure no one know your identity. I might not know how to create cars or radios, but I certainly know how to hide from someone. I did that for the last TWO moons and, obviously, no one noticed I was still alive and spying on the humans. > I turned toward the calf who thought I could only mimic. < Beside, I learn fast. You can easily teach me whatever skills or knowledge I lack. > I turned back toward the herd’s leader. He was the one I needed to convince. < You don’t even need to tell me everything. When you make a plan, for example, you just need to tell me what I have to do. I can easily fight without knowing the whole plan or why I have to do whatever you want me to do. That way, even if I get captured or betray you, I wouldn’t have a lot of information to give. As your own species say, I can’t say what I don’t know. >  
“Good point.” Said Jake – the herd’s leader. “Ax?”  
As I didn’t hear any answer, it was safe to assume Ax (whoever that was) had used private thought-speech – meaning I wouldn’t know what that Ax thought of me.  
< Is there a time limit for the transformation? > I asked Cassie. < So far, I’ve always made sure to turn back into myself every now and then but it’s tiring. If I don’t need to do it, it would save me a lot of energy. >  
“Yes. Two hours and you get stuck forever.” She answered.  
< In that case, can I go back in my wallow while you discuss the issue? I’m exhausted. I wouldn’t mind sleeping here but I’m too big to hide in a stall and, if someone were to come, I wouldn’t have enough time to morph. >  
“Seriously?” The aggressive calf asked, clearly annoyed.  
< I transformed a lot today and I always tried to make it as fast as possible. I don’t know if it’s the same for your species but transforming quickly is exhausting for me. I wasn’t planning to meet you, today. I was returning to my wallow because I was too tired to spy on the humans any longer. > I took a short pause. < It won’t take a lot of time. I just want a short nap, nothing more. >  
I heard a heavy sight from Jake. Obviously, transforming was tiring for the twolegs too.  
“How many times did you morph today?”  
< No ideas. I can only count up to four. I was more focused on learning to speak human than learning how to count. > I took a short pause to think of what I could say. < I swear I want to stay but I know my limits. If I stay here, I’ll have to turn back into myself at some point because of the time limit. Then, I would need to transform into a bird again to communicate and fly back to my wallow, at which point I would need to transform into myself again. I’m really sorry but I can’t transform three times in a row like that. I’m too exhausted for that. >  
“Fine.” The leader said after rolling his eyes. “Cassie? You want to go with him?”

Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw next. Thought I had transformed so many times before, I had never witnessed it on someone else with the amazing eyesight of a whiteface. It was disgusting. I wish I could describe it but I didn’t know the twoleg’s language well enough to give a decent idea of the horror happening in front of me. It was too disgusting for words – for the ones I knew, that is.  
< Whenever you’re ready. > Said the friendly Cassie after she had transform into a bird I didn’t know.  
< Let’s go, then. > I answered, happy the transformation was over.  
We both took off at the same time and flew toward my wallow. Unfortunately, as we needed to stay away from each other in case a yeerk would be watching us, we didn’t have an opportunity to talk to each other until we had landed in my wallow.

“So this is where you lived all that time?” She asked after turning back into herself.  
< Yes. > I answered. < Can I transform back or is there something you want to talk about first? >  
“No, it’s fine. Take your nap, I’ll tell you if there’s anything.”  
I turned back into myself as quickly as I could – losing whatever energy I had left in the process – and stood up. I was tired, sure, but I knew I wouldn’t stay here for long. I was here to rest a little, not to sleep.  
“Don’t you want to sleep? I can wake you up when it will be time to come back.”  
I shook my head sideway.  
“Just a nap, then?”  
I shook my head up and down before closing my eyes. It didn’t take long for my exhaustion to overcome my stress and make me doze off; since I wasn’t a twoleg, I didn’t need to worry about falling down: my anatomy allowed me to rest even if I stood up.

* * *

“Wake up.” Cassie said. “It’s time to go, now.”

I opened my eyes and stared at here.  
“You had a good nap?”  
I shook my head up and down. Despite being shorter than I would have wanted, I had napped(?) long enough to transform a few more times.  
“Let’s go, then.” She said as she began to transform into a bird.  
I shook my head once again and began to transform into a whiteface. As soon as we were both ready, we took off and flew back to Cassie’s herd.

“You had a good rest?” Asked the leader shortly after I landed next to him.  
< Oh, yes. Thanks for asking. > I said. < Have you decided what to do about me? >  
“No, not yet.” He said before looking at the friendly twoleg. “We were waiting for your vote.”  
< I say yes. He already showed us he could learn and his help could be useful. >  
“So we have a tie.”

A tie.  
I knew what it meant.  
Half of the herd wanted me to fight with them while the other half didn’t want to and, somehow, the leader wouldn’t make a decision.  
Depending on how you saw it, it meant I was one vote short of being accepted or one vote away from being rejected. A good news and a bad news.  
Although the leader might very well decide to push the balance toward the “yes”, I didn’t want to take any chances: my herd was at stake. I had to find a way to make one of the “no” change their mind.  
But how?  
I didn’t even know _who_ had voted for the “yes” and for the “no”.  
I could guess the calf thinking I could only mimic and the aggressive calf had voted against, but I had no idea who was the third “no”.  
Probably the bird or the Deer-twoleg: when I had left, the leader had seemed interested in me joining the fight.  
Not that it really mattered. If I wanted to convince one of the “no”, it had to be the aggressive calf or the “mimic” one – I didn’t know what was the opinion of the bird and the deer-twoleg.  
No. Not even. To convince the aggressive calf, I would need to show so much aggressiveness toward the yeerks that the friendly twoleg might get scared and change her mind.  
Which left the “mimic” calf.  
He was afraid of the risk. He was afraid I would accidentally make the herd discovered or attacked. Should I swear, again, my loyalty? Show I was smart enough not to put them in danger? Promise to keep my distances with them and only meet them – in morph – for essential communications only?  
No. That wouldn’t work.  
Maybe making myself so valuable that the risk would be worth it?  
Perhaps.  
But how? How? _How???_  
The friendly twoleg had given me intelligence and the ability to transform. I had to use it! I was smart enough to learn their language in two moons, so why couldn’t I think of a way to…  
Of course.  
I had to use, indirectly, the other herd. The yeerks. The mean herd.  
I could transform into their leader.

< I think I can transform in the yeerk’s leader. > I said without bothering to give the context. < I’m confident I can learn how to mimic his voice and impersonate him in front of his own herd. >  
I knew it had worked. Despite not having a lot of experience in reading twoleg expressions, I could see the “mimic” calf had changed his mind. He still thought accepting me was risky but being able to transform into the yeerk’s leader made me extremely valuable – enough to justify the risk.

“Ok.” Said the leader. “You can fight with us. But you will need to follow some rules.”

 


	6. A name

I was happy.  
They were accepting me.   
Thought I couldn’t return to my herd (it would put it in danger), I could stay with the twoleg herd and fight with them.  


“First off,” the leader continued. “The yeerks must _not_ know we’re humans. That means you can’t demorph where someone could see you or thought-speak to any of them, all right?”  
He sat in front of me and looked at me in the eyes. Twolegs sometime do that when they are talking about something serious.  
“This rule is _very_ important. You saw them. They’re a lot more powerful and numerous than us. The only reason they didn’t captured us so far is that they don’t know who we are. If you have to respect just _one_ rule, it must be this one, understand?”  
< Yes, of course. >  
“Good. Now, the second rule is to follow the orders. Sometime, they won’t make sense to you but, even then, we need you to follow them.”  
< Well, you’re the leader. I never had the intention to disobey you. > I said, almost offended at the suggestion I could do such a thing.  
“Glad to hear that. So, the third rule is more about morality than safety, but you can’t morph a sentient beings without their consent, ok?”  
< Ok…> I said before turning toward the friendly twoleg. < But, how can I know if a being is sentient or not? I know most humans and buffalos are sentient but I have no ideas for the other species. I mean, even your species don’t know how to know if someone is sentient or not. >  
“Just ask us before you acquire something, all right?” Answered the friendly twoleg. “We’ll tell you if it’s sentient or not.”  
I looked at her, confused. I had no ideas what she meant by “acquiring”. I mean, I knew what the _word_ meant, but I couldn’t figure out what meaning it had in the context: how could the act of taking something for oneself have anything to do with morphing?  
< By “acquiring”, you mean the act of obtaining something or… >  
“No.” She said with a little smile. “It’s when you touch another animal to be able to transform into it.”  
Even if it still didn’t make sense for me (it’s not like you were taking anything from whichever animal you “acquired”) I didn’t say anything. They were, after all, twolegs: it was quite common for them to use words that didn’t have any meanings in the context.  
“The fourth and final rule” the leader said loudly, visibly annoyed I had shifted my attention to Cassie. “Is not to stay in morph more than two hours. Do you know how long two hours are?”  
< Yes. And staying in morph too long mean I can’t be a buffalo again, right? >  
< Exactly. You become a nothlit. So, right now, it would mean spending the rest of your life as a bird. >  
Thought I had never heard that voice before, I knew it was coming from the bird. Apart the deer-twoleg, he was the only one currently able to use thought-speech and his voice didn’t sound like the deer-twoleg’s voice.

Wait. The bird. I didn’t know his name. Nor the name of the aggressive twoleg. Nor the name of the calf claiming I couldn’t learn.  
I only knew the leader(Jake), the deer-twoleg(Ax) and the friendly twoleg(Cassie).

< What are your names? I only know Jake, Cassie and Ax. > I said as I turned my head toward at the leader, the friendly twoleg and the deer-twoleg – a gesture which, for twolegs, showed who I was talking about.  
< I’m Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill. > That was from the deer-twoleg; apparently, “Ax” was just a nickname.  
“I’m Marco.” Said the twoleg thinking I could only mimic. “Bird-boy up there is Tobias and this is Xena.” He then said while pointing, in order, the bird and the aggressive twoleg.  
Xena gave Marco a small punch in the ribs. Contrary to what I would have expected from a twoleg, Marco didn’t get angry or tried to retaliate but simply laughed a little. I guess twoleg calves weren’t really different from buffalo calves: even the tiniest and shortest fight amused them.  
“Don’t listen to him. I’m Rachel.” Said the aggressive twoleg; apparently, Xena was also a nickname.  
I quickly looked at the herd’s members and memorized their names. Marco, the calf thinking I could only mimic; Cassie, the friendly twoleg; Jake, the leader; Rachel, the aggressive twoleg; Tobias, the bird, and Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, the deer-twoleg.  
“You’ll need a name.” Jake said after a short silence. “Any ideas?”  


If I had a twoleg mouth, I would smile: _of course_ I had an idea!  
< I have one: Cassie. > I said as I turned toward the friendly twoleg. < Of course, only if you’re fine with me having it. >  
She smiled. Even if I didn’t know a lot about twoleg facial expressions, I knew what that smile meant: she was happy I wanted to have the same name as her.  
“You can’t take that one, sorry.” Jake said. “That name isn’t used by males.”  
“What about Heffer?” Marco proposed.  
“Well, that would certainly work…” Jake said with a smile before asking me: “What do you think of it?”  
Heffer. Heffer. Heffer. Heffer. I repeated the twoleg name in my mind a few times. I loved how it sounded.  
< I would love it. Heffer. Heffer. Heffer. Heffer. I love how that one sound. >  
“Really? Jake, come on, you can’t seriously let him take that name!” That was Cassie. She looked angry, for some reasons. Was “Heffer” some kind of insult-name (assuming that was a thing)?  
She turned toward me and crouched. Not in the “serious” way – like Jake – but in a “I want to help you as a friend” way.   
“Any other ideas? Surely, you have a few more?”  
I stayed silent for an instant. I hadn’t really bothered to learn twoleg names, so it was hard to find some ideas. Especially since I didn’t really see the point of having a name apart for acting as if I were a twoleg.  
< I… I don’t know…> Oh yeah! I did remember a name! < What about Tomcruise? >  
The whole herd, except Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill, chuckled. Apparently, that wasn’t a name but a joke. Twolegs are weird.  
“Sorry, you can’t pick this one either. It’s the name of a celebrity.” Cassie explained. “And, it’s not Tomcruise: it’s Tom Cruise. There’s a space between the first and last name.”  
Ha! Count on twolegs to have more than one name _each_!  
< So, can I take Heffer, then? > I asked the friendly twoleg. < I love that name. Why can’t I take it, anyway? Is it a girl-name too? >  
“No. It’s just the name of a steer in a cartoon.” She said as he stared at Marco.  
< So? Even if it’s a steer-name, I love it. And it’s not like the yeerk will understand I’m alive just because I use such a name. >  
“Ok, fine. If you want Heffer, take it.” Cassie said after a short sight.  
“He’ll need a human morph too.” Jake said, apparently forgetting I already had one, even if I had used it less than two hours ago.  
< I already have a human morph, remember? I used it to talk to you not long ago. > I said.  
“ I know. But you can’t use that morph: it’s the body of a living person and you would be immediately recognized by someone.” The herd’s leader explained before turning toward Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill. “You want to explain him how to perform a frolis manoeuvre?”  
After short silent, the deer-twoleg walked toward me.  
“Then just tell him how to _do_ it, Ax.” Jake said, probably answering to something the deer-twoleg had told him in private.  
< A frolis manoeuvre will allow you to create a morph from multiple sources. Start by demorphing: you’ll have to acquire some of us. > Said Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill – judging by his tone, he didn’t want me here. (Not that any of them, apart Cassie, seemed really happy to see me.)  
Anyway, as instructed, I focused on my buffalo form until I was myself again.

“Ok, Heffer, you’re ready to acquire us?” Asked the friendly twoleg.  
I moved my head up and down as Rachel, Cassie, Jake and Marco all stretched one of their arms toward me. One by one, I gently placed my nose on their hands and acquired them.  
< Focus on their bodies as if you were morphing all of them at the same time. You can have some influence on the result by picturing what you want the morph to look like. Given your lack of experience, however, I suggest you limit yourself at the sex to make sure you do not fail the manoeuvre. >  
I focused on the four calves and, at the same time, imagined an adult male twoleg I had never seen.  
But nothing happened. I wasn’t changing. I was just there, as a buffalo, trying to imagine a twoleg in my mind. Was I doing something wrong? Probably. Unless the frolis manoeuvre didn’t work on buffalo?  
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine another twoleg in my head: perhaps the “result” I was imagining was too old? After all, I had acquired _calves_.  
I changed my strategy: instead of a fully-grown twoleg, I pictured a young calf and just to stay on the safe side, I made sure the twoleg had some similarities with every herd’s members.  
Then, suddenly, it started. The transformation. The displeasing crunching sound produced by my bones as they changed shape. The odd sensation of organs disappearing while new organs appeared to replace them. The disturbing feeling of those same organs being compacted together to fit inside the tiny body of a twoleg calf.  
I was glad when it finally ended.

< You are done. > Aximili-Esgarrouth-Isthill said.  
“Thanks.” I answered before looking at the friendly twoleg. There was one last question I wanted to ask her.  
I had noticed how she would always look uneasy whenever my herd was mentioned: she knew something about my herd, and I wanted… _had_ … to know what it was.

“Do you know how my herd is doing?” I feared the worst. If whatever she knew about my herd was good, she wouldn’t look uneasy: she would look happy.  
“Heffer, I’m really sorry.” She started, instantly confirming my fears. Something bad had happened to my herd. Twolegs weren’t sorry when they announced a good news and Cassie was sorry for me.  
“Please… Let me see them… Just one time…” I begged as I felt like my throat was blocked by something immaterial; it was a strange feeling I had never felt before. Was it dangerous? Maybe… I would ask the friendly twoleg later: for now, only my herd mattered.  
She slowly walked toward me and gently grabbed one of my arms while my vision became a little blurry. I became even more worried: when twolegs grabbed the arm of another twoleg, it generally didn’t mean good news. Especially when they were sorry and looked uneasy.   
“ Heffer. I’m afraid you can’t see your herd again. ”  
Maybe that’s why she looked uneasy? Maybe that was the bad news? Maybe she wasn’t sorry because something bad had happened to my herd but because I couldn’t see it anymore? Maybe it was too risky to go see it because of the yeerks?  
Yeah, it was probably something like that. It was the most likely explanation. My herd was doing well. I just couldn’t go see my fellow coherders.  
That’s why she was sorry. Right? _Right?_ _RIGHT?!_

“Why not? I don’t need to be a buffalo to see it. I can transform into a human. The yeerk won’t recognize me if I use my human form.”  
“ No, Heffer, that’s not the problem.”  
I looked at her in the eyes. There was just one possibility left: that my herd didn’t exist anymore. But… it couldn’t be true, right? Like, I wasn’t as intelligent as a twoleg: surely, there was another answer I couldn’t think of! Surely, my herd was perfectly fine and I just couldn’t see my friends because of some strange twoleg problem I couldn’t understand! Right?  
RIGHT?!  
Yet…

“They’re… dead…? My coherders… The yerks killed…” I asked, unsure I even wanted to know the answer.  
“No, your coherders are still alive and are doing well.” Cassie said. Good. That meant my herd still existed, right? That meant there was another twoleg reason, right? “But they were taken to others… wallows.”

I collapsed on the ground.  
My herd was…  
My herd was…  
My herd was…  
My herd was…  
I couldn’t even think of the word.   
Not that it really mattered. Whatever the word was, I didn’t have a herd anymore. The twolegs had destroyed it.  
The immaterial thing blocking my throat became larger.  
Salty water began to come out of my eyes.  
Some kind of liquid filled my nose until I was no longer able to use it.   
I wondered if I was dying. I wondered if the immaterial thing would become so big I would no longer be able to breath. I wondered if so much water would come out of my eyes I would die of thirst. I wondered if whatever filled my nose was toxic and would poison me.  
But I didn’t care.  
I didn’t care about anything. I could hear Cassie’s voice but I didn’t care. I could hear her talk to me but I didn’t care.  
My herd was… My herd was…. My herd was….. My herd was……  
No. I couldn’t say that. I couldn’t say “my herd”.  
Because I didn’t have a herd.  
Because I was herdless.  
I was a buff… No I wasn’t.  
I wasn’t a buffalo. A buffalo protect his herd until the very end: they don’t cowardly hide in some random wallow to spy on the twoleg like the coward I was.  
And now it was too late. The herd… What used to be my her…  
Alone. Forever. Herdless.

I focused on my normal form. I didn’t want to be a twoleg anymore. I wanted to be a buff… I wanted to have the body of a buffalo.  
I felt a little better when the transformation was completed – or, rather, more comfortable: no water coming out of my eyes, nothing blocking my throat or my nose.  
Not that I cared, really.  
The friendly twoleg walked toward me and started to change shape. She was transforming. Probably to tell me Jake wanted me to leave and never come back. That’s what he should do, anyway. That’s what I deserved for failing at being a true buffalo. That’s what I deserved for being a failure. That’s what I deserved for being a coward, stupid, herd-traitor.  
I simply didn’t deserve the honour of fighting with them.

I closed my eyes. I didn’t want see Cassie as she changed. I wanted to remember her as a twoleg, not the disgusting combination of a twoleg and whatever she was transforming into.  
But, unfortunately, there was nothing I could do against the smell.  
It was disgusting.   
At first, it smelled like a mix between Cassie and something I could only describe as some kind of exposed artificial – and unnatural – flesh. As Cassie kept transforming, the smell became less “Cassie” and more “unnatural and artificial flesh”. A few moments later, when Cassie’s smell was barely noticeable, a third odour appeared under the fake flesh: the odour of the animal she was transforming into. It still had the artificial and unnatural aspect, but I could still recognize it: a buffalo.  
From that point, the smell of the fake flesh was slowly replaced by the smell of a fake (read: artificial and unnatural) buffalo while the smell of the fake buffalo was replaced by the smell of a real buffalo; I know it doesn’t make sense but, sadly, twolegs don’t enough words to describe smells in details.  
Anyway.  
When the odour of the artificial buffalo gave place to the pleasant fragrance of a real buffalo, I knew she was finished. So I opened my eyes and saw myself; or, more exactly, the buffalo I used to be.

< Heffer? Your herd is fine. > Cassie said. < Just because your coherders are not in the same wallow doesn’t mean they’re not a herd. >  
I looked at the ground. I wish I could believe that but I knew better. I had failed my herd, betrayed them.  
I wasn’t a real buffalo. I didn’t deserve to be one. I barely deserve to be.  
< Do you see us as a herd? > She asked. < Do you consider we form a herd? >  
I looked at her and moved my head up and down a few times. I didn’t know how it could be relevant to my failure at being a buffalo but… she was the friendly twoleg and I didn’t want to be rude by ignoring her.  
< Yet, none of us has the same wallow. Rachel, Marco, Jake and I don’t share the same house. Even Tobias and Ax don’t live in the same part of the wood. > She said. < Knowing that, do you still think we are a herd? >  
I stared at her for a short moment. I wasn’t sure what to answer. They didn’t have the same wallow and yet, they still looked like a herd: they had a leader, they protected each other, they fought together and they worked together to protect the herd as a whole.  
But they didn’t have the same wallow.  
Still, they were a herd….  
I moved my head up and down again.  
< So, why wouldn’t it be the same with your herd? If we, being humans, can be a herd without sharing the same wallow, why can’t buffalos do the same? After all, your herds are much stronger than ours. >  
I stared at her for a long time. She was… right. Buffalos formed stronger herds than twolegs so, if _they_ could make herds without having a common wallow, what prevented _us_ from doing the same?

Nothing.

She was right. My herd was still a herd. My coherders might be in different wallows, but they were a herd nonetheless; which meant I could still call myself a buffalo.  
But I had still failed them. They had been attacked and I hadn’t been with them to fight the twolegs attacking them.  
They might still form a herd, but I couldn’t be with them again. I didn’t deserve them.  
My herd was still a herd, but I was still herdless; alone.

I slowly transformed into the twoleg calf I had created not long ago as Cassie returned to her normal form.  
When I was finished, I looked at Jake.  
I was a buffalo; I needed a herd.  
“Can I be in your herd?” I asked.  
“You already are.” He answered, puzzled. “ We accepted you when you came back from your nap, remember?”  
“No. You agreed to let me fight with you.” I explained. “That’s close, but not the same thing. I want to be in your herd, not just fight with you.”  
“Then, yes. You can be in our herd.”  
I let out a sight of relief: I had a herd.

But there was still one thing I wanted to know. Something that only the friendly twoleg could know.  
“Am I good?” I asked her.  
“Yes.” She answered. “You are good.”

 


End file.
